Goodbye Mable
by h'tom servioux
Summary: Mable, a young woman with a tramatic past and a murderous, misanthropic alter ego, moves next-door to Mulder.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Mulder and Scully. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and the Fox Network. I do own Mable, Paula, and the other people from Mable's childhood.  
  
Summery: Mable, a lonely, young girl with a traumatic childhood and murderous, misanthropic alter ego, moves in next to Mulder. When Mulder offers a helping hand she thinks (and hopes) that the gesture is more than friendly. An obsession with her new neighbor comes to be, and when she feels that she has been rejected she allows her darker side to run rampant. It will probably be a pretty bizarre story. I am just warning you in advance.  
  
** This is the prologue. It takes place during Mable's childhood. It is just to give any potential reader a frame of reference for when the girl's problem began. Mulder and Scully will come in during the next chapter!  
By the way, this is my first X-files Fanfic and I would really like to know what you think. The whole story is a bit tongue in cheek, but I hope you also find it at least a little creepy. PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!  
  
Goodbye Mable: Prologue  
  
"What happened at school?" Mable's mother asked quickly, while she snipped at the young girls hair. She looked preoccupied and nervous. Mable was ten. She did not know what to say, but she was terrified to tell her the truth. She fidgeted nervously.  
"They made fun of you I bet. I told you not to wear those goddamn glasses." Mable adjusted her spectacles, "I have to Mama, I can't see without them."  
Her mother's trimming became a bit wilder. "Why can't you just be normal like the other little girls?" she asked softly. She patted the little girl's light brown locks.  
"I'm sorry, Mama," Mable whispered cautiously.  
"I think you should go to your room."  
Mable looked up, facing her mother, "But Mama, what about dinner?"  
Her mother looked past Mable like she always did, and spoke quietly to the space by the side of Mable's head. "No, I don't think.Not tonight," she said brokenly, "I think you should go to your room now."  
Mable walked to her bedroom. She did not like her room. It had no lights. Her mama said that bedrooms were for sleeping, and no one needs lights to sleep. Mable lay in bed, thinking about the day. She did not have many friends, just her mama. People at school did not like her very much. They called her names, but it had nothing to do with her glasses.  
This day had been different. It had been worse, maybe- but maybe not. She could not decide. She did not know what had happened, although knew it was bad and she had enough sense not to tell anyone about it.  
Earlier that day during lunch recess, she had gone into the bathroom. She liked bathrooms. They were quiet and had a lot of mirrors. Her mama did not have any mirrors. Mable thought mirrors were nice, but she knew she was wrong. Her mama said that people who looked in mirrors were vain. Mable did not know what "vain" meant, but it sounded ugly like a cuss word.  
She had looked into mirror anyway. She thought it was amazing, like she was in two places at once. She was standing there in the school bathroom, but she was also in a different world- a mirror world. Everything was different in this world: She had a lot of friends and lights in her bedroom so she could stay up all night. Mable liked to pretend she was in mirror world.  
This is what she had been doing when she saw someone behind her, lurking in the shadows of the girls' bathroom. She turned around quickly to see another girl who she knew to be named Paula.  
"Wh-what are you doing in here?" Mable said.  
Paula had always made her nervous. She was taller than Mable and a year older. Paula was too close, Mable backed into the mirror.  
"What's wrong?" Paula had whispered in a horrible, mocking tone. She laughed coldly, "You are such a freak."  
And then Mable did not know. It was like she had blacked out and when she awoke she was standing in the principal's office. The principal, Mr. Ryban, was yelling at her. Paula had been standing next to the angry administrator with a bloody nose and what looked like it might soon be a black eye.  
"I've called your mother. Mable, I cannot believe you would use violence against another student."  
"But.what?" Mable's eyes widened. She had been confused. "I didn't do it," she protested.  
No one had believed her. She had been suspended for a week. Her mama had come to pick her up. During the drive home, neither spoke. When they arrived, her mother had looked to the side of Mable's head and said, "I think you need a haircut."  
She knew it had been a bad haircut and now, as she lay in her bed, she dared to reach up and touch her hair. It was very short, like a boy's hair. Mable understood the lesson her mama had been trying to teach- if you are going to get in fights like a boy, you should look like one as well.  
A noise in night shattered Mable's thoughts. She recognized it immediately as the next-door neighbors Chihuahua. And then something happened. It was similar to what had happened earlier that day in the girls' bathroom. However, this time she did not black out.  
Everything around her became dull and surreal. Mable felt angry at her mama- for purposely giving her a bad haircut, for saying that she was not like the rest of the little girls, for never, ever looking her in the eye. She felt angry at Paula- for cornering her in the bathroom, for shattering her reverie about new life in a different world, for looking so hurt and innocent. She felt angry with everyone because no one would be her friend and stick up for her. And then, it was like something inside her broke. The only thing she could hear was the yip yipping of that little dog. And suddenly, she heard something else. It was a soft voice singing an eerie tune. The voice went on continuously, only broken by the shrill yelps of dog: "Yip! Yip!"  
Mable looked around wildly, squinting in the dark in a desperate attempt to find the source of the voice. She found nothing.  
"Yip! Yip! Yip!"  
And with sudden horror, she realized the voice was just inside her head. The singing stopped, and a cold, sharp laughter replaced it. It reverberated wildly in her mind. Mable clutched her head, "Shut up."  
And also, "Yip! Yip!" "Shut up," Mable sobbed, "Shut up!"  
"Yip! Yip! Yip!"  
"Wh-who are you?"  
The laughter slowed and then subsided. "Oh, Mable," the voice said. It sounded familiar, but it was definitely not comforting. It was icy and formidable. "Oh, Mable, I just want to be your friend. Don't you know who I am?"  
"N-no," Mable whispered hesitantly.  
The voice chuckled and then spoke, "I'm from the mirror world"  
  
Okay, so there is my first chapter. I hope you liked it. Even if you despised it, PLEASE REVIEW and give some constructive criticism. I just want to know what people think. Thanks! 


	2. Neighbor

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the x-files characters.  
  
***This has nothing to do with anything, but did you know that Johnny Depp is sometimes credited as Oprah Noodlemantra.  
  
Chapter Summery: Mulder meets Mable for the first time. It takes place eighteen years after the prologue. This would make Mable about 28. There probably will be a lot of UST between Mulder and Scully, but probably not much straight up romance. I want to stay true to the show. There will be NO real romance between Mable and Mulder. Although Mable thinks otherwise, Mulder is just trying to be nice. By the way, I have nothing against dogs.  
  
Goodbye Mable: Neighbor  
  
"Woof! Woof! Woof!"  
Mulder irritably pressed the couch cushion against his ear in a futile attempt to drown out the maddening din. The tenets in the room above him had just bought a yappy mutt. Technically, tenets were not allowed to have dogs-- especially dogs that were loud and obnoxious, but these people were friends of the owner. Apparently this made them above the rules.  
He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. He desperately wished he had earplugs. He sat still on his on his couch for a few minutes and then, foregoing sleep, he stood up to make himself a pot of coffee. As he sipped the steaming drink, he wondered if anyone had ever been driven mad by the repetitive barking of a dog. The thought did not worry him too much. He was, at least according to his colleagues, already a bit off his rocker.  
Mulder decided he would file a complaint about the dog before he went to work. He fidgeted impatiently and looked at his watch. It read 4:34 a.m. He sighed deeply and picked the TV remote. He casually flipped through the channels and found nothing that piqued his interest. He thought about calling Scully, but decided against it for obvious reasons. However as the minutes ticked by in an unnaturally slow fashion, calling his partner seemed more and more like it would be a really good way to pass the time.  
Finally he decided to call her. He dialed her number and waited while it rang a few times. "Scully," said a weary voice on the other end.  
"Hey, it's me," said Mulder, feeling a pang of guilt brought on by the tired sound of her voice.  
"Mulder?" she groaned. "What time is it?"  
"4:46 a.m."  
She did not answer for a few moments, but then she asked, "Well.are you okay?"  
"Yeah," he answered.  
She sighed and then spoke in a slightly heated voice, "What do you want?"  
He winced. "I guess it can wait until morning. I'm sorry, Scully. I'll talk to you tomorrow."  
"Yeah, tomorrow," she said as she hung up.  
As he put down the phone, Mulder realized that the dog had stopped barking. He frowned in disbelief and rapped on the wall to make sure he had not suddenly gone deaf. Then he sighed in relief and tried again to fall asleep.  
  
Mulder did not want to wake up the next morning. By the time he did, he was running late. He blindly ran around his apartment in an attempt to quickly get ready. When at last he was out into the hall, he right ran into a young woman, sending her flying to the ground. She was pretty --in a straggly sort of way. She had thin, long brown hair and hazel eyes. She was very slight. She was pale, thin, and probably a foot shorter than Mulder.  
He leaned down to help her up, "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I didn't get much sleep. That damn dog kept me up half the night. He's not yours, is he?" She shook her head and he continued: "Good, I think I might shoot the owner if this keeps up. She pulled a horrified face. He smiled, "I'm just kidding." He paused for a few moments, and then to break the suddenly awkward silence, he said, "I'm Mulder, by the way." When she spoke, her voice was shaky and listless. " I-I'm Mable, I-uh just moved in." She pointed to a door a few down from his.  
He nodded, "Maybe I'll see you around some time." Then he looked at his watch and swore under his breath, "Oh God, I'm late. Bye Mable. It was nice to meet you." She smiled as he ran off.  
  
When he reached the office, Scully was already there. He apologized for the late night phone call, but she simply shrugged it off.  
"You have a meeting with Skinner in a few minutes. He just called me." Scully said. Mulder frowned, "Am I in trouble?"  
"I don't believe so," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Unless you did something that would anger the F.B.I. Again."  
"What are insinuating?" Mulder said smiling.  
"Nothing," she looked at her watch. "You're going to be late if you don't hurry." When he arrived at Skinner's office, he was seated at a table with a group of other agents. Skinner stood in front. When he spoke, he talked directly to Mulder, "Agent, we just picked a guy who confessed to the murder of his wife's lover. The problem is that he won't tell us what he did with the body. He says that he buried the guy in place where he could never be exhumed. We believe that the victim is, in fact, dead. There was blood all over the husband's study and it matched a sample the victim gave earlier-"  
Mulder cut him off, "Is this an x-file, sir?"  
Skinner sighed, "Well no, this man is from your past. His name is Joe Engle. Do you remember him?"  
Mulder pondered this for a moment, trying to match the name with a prior case. "Yeah," he said finally, "He was charged with the murder of his cousin. The poor guy had been killed with a chainsaw; it was pretty messy. However, the forensic scientist working on the case was accused of tampering with evidence, so Engle got off Scott free."  
Skinner nodded and pulled out a file. "This is your profile of Engle, along with the file for the current case. I was thinking that you go down to the jail tomorrow and talk to him. We can't convict him without the body."  
Mulder nodded; he was a little disappointed the case had nothing to do with the paranormal.  
"I'll get right on it," he said.  
  
"What was that about?" Scully asked when Mulder was back in their office.  
He held up the file, "Some guy killed his wife's boyfriend. I have to talk to him. I'll review the case when I get home."  
She did not press the subject any further.  
Mulder left a little early. He intended to buy some earplugs before the stores closed. In his rush to leave, he forgot Joe Engle's file. He called Scully and asked her to drop it off at his apartment on her way home from work.  
  
******Sorry, I know that chapter was not too interesting and it sort of dropped off at the end. However, everything in it is essential to the story. I will work on my presentation; I promise. If it really pained you to read this chapter, I will revise it. PLEASE REVIEW!!! 


	3. Rebecca

Disclaimer: I do not own them.  
  
Goodbye Mable: Rebecca  
  
Mable sat quietly in her kitchen. She had been trying not to think of her new neighbor. She liked him, but experience had taught her that the feeling could never be mutual. She knew that because she was so quiet, people thought she was dumb or had nothing important to say. She was sure they would like her even less if they got to know her.  
  
She was a painter by nature. She had the tendencies shared by many other artists. She knew she was introverted and never before had she fought her loneliness. Art is all about a personal search for beauty. Criticism or praise from others is not something that artists should seek. Rather, an artist should seek out his own flaws and emphasize his own strengths. This is the only way his art could really be his own.  
  
She looked down at her fingertips. They were blackened with charcoal. She had been absentmindedly doodling on a piece of scratch paper. She looked down cautiously, half afraid of what she was going see.  
  
Her picture looked like him. Of course, the features were not perfect, but she had the essentials. She had his playful expression down perfectly. She had captured his eyes, which were a counterpart to his friendly smile. His eyes reflected something damned and rejected. This is what she had especially liked about him. She liked it because she could understand. She could empathize, which is something she had never been able to do before.  
  
She heard a noise and realized that she been rubbing the charcoal against the paper aimlessly. She had ruined the picture. She had scratched out his eyes.  
  
And then she heard it--laughter. She should have expected this-she knew her peace would not last long. Did she really think the voice would go away forever? She had not heard it since her mama's funeral. That was two years ago, remembering it made her feel like a child again-vulnerable and naive.  
  
She sometimes was certain that it was her mama that had fostered the evil inside of her. Her mama had called her "Rebecca" whenever she did something bad. Mable distinctly remembered the first time it had happened. It had been a few days after her encounter with Paula. She had been in her room snacking on some cookies from the kitchen. Her mama had come in and the moment she saw what Mable was doing she was appalled. Her mama had said she was acting with gluttony.  
  
"Can't you wait for dinner," she had yelled. But she could not, simply because her mama had not fed her in the last few days.  
  
She had grabbed Mable by the hair and dragged her to bathroom. She had forced a bar of soap in Mable mouth and moved it around until Mable began to vomit. All the while her mama muttered, "It is a dirty vice, Rebecca..Gluttony..If you keep committing deadly sins you'll end up a tramp on her way to perdition."  
  
After that, it seemed natural that whatever was inside of her head should be named Rebecca. Rebecca told her to do bad things--things that her mama would hate. It was as if Rebecca lived for the sole purpose of defying her mama.  
  
She had lived with her mama until the end. During the funeral, the voice inside her head laughed and laughed. Mable desperately desired to weep freely. It was, after all, her mama's funeral. But because the awful, unchecked laughter in her head, she could not cry.  
  
Rebecca had gone away, but now she was back to force Mable to remain lonely. It was not going to work. Mable would go to his apartment and talk to him. She felt a slight rush of pride for her newfound defiance.  
  
Before she left, she cautiously glanced into the mirror. She immediately regretted it. She still liked looking in mirrors. It gave her a feeling of euphoria, reminding her of the happier moments in her life-the moments she had spent in her room planning and dreaming. However, as she grew older she began to harbor a small, irrational fear of mirrors.  
  
Whenever she looked into a mirror, she felt that a stranger was looking back-looking back through her own eyes. (Maybe the fear was not so irrational) And now as she looked into the mirror, she distinctly felt the disconcerting feeling. It was stronger than ever.  
  
She had not felt this invaded in years. She was suddenly compelled to lean closer to the mirror. She felt something shift in her mind. It was like her consciousness had been swept aside. Her eyes were fixed to the mirror.  
  
She knew that it could not be her reflection that she now gazed upon. She swiftly moved her hand in front of the mirror. Her reflection did not move. Instead it looked stolidly back at her, not mirroring her fearful expression.  
  
Mable was horrorstruck. She wondered miserably why she had ever thought Rebecca had left her for good.  
  
"Why can't you just leave me alone," Mable moaned. Nothing like this had ever happened. Rebecca had never been so real-something concrete, outside of Mable's head.  
  
Rebecca smiled sadly and whispered, "I just want to be your friend."  
  
"No," Mable said. "No. No. No."  
  
"I want to be your only friend. Somehow, I have to get my way. You can't just go off and make new friends. It doesn't work that way. You should know this by now."  
  
Mable felt a jolt and suddenly she was no longer in control. She knew that something was about to happen. She knew that it would not be good.  
  
*** Sorry I did not update sooner. I was really busy. 


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